Battlefield Ukraine

Retreat

It was 0200 in the morning as the last soldiers of second platoon, Nemesis Troop, loaded into their remaining vehicles. They were under a tight timeline to get out of the area and fall back to Kiev. The order had finally come down to get out of dodge — it couldn’t have come at a better time. The Russians had pulled back after a brutally failed attack. Childers, for one, was glad someone had finally ordered them to retreat. He was concerned that Lieutenant Colonel Munch would have had them fight on until they were either surrounded or completely overrun.

2^nd Lieutenant Taylor hopped into the LATV and signaled for the driver to start driving. Childers looked over at the LT. “So, what did you learn from the colonel?” he asked, hoping to see if he had a better picture of what was going on with the war. It had been a rough 24 hours, and they still had no idea what was going on in the world. All they really knew was they were at war with Russia. They were as starved for information as they were for sleep.

“I wasn’t able to learn much. What had been passed down to him was that all NATO Forces were being pulled back to Kiev where we’ve been ordered to make our stand. He did say that the rest of his division should be in Kiev in the next few hours,” explained Taylor. He sighed deeply. “If it’s all right with you Sergeant, I’m going to try and catch a little bit of sleep. I don’t think I can keep my eyes open any longer.” He leaned his head against the side of the vehicle, falling asleep in mere seconds.

“What I wouldn’t give to know what in the world is going on right now,” remarked SFC Childers out of frustration, speaking to no one in particular. The private who was driving the vehicle just nodded his head and grunted in agreement. Childers was exhausted. He just wanted to get to Kiev in one piece, and hopefully find a quiet place to sleep. Everyone in the platoon was exhausted.

Lieutenant Colonel Brian Munch was exhausted. His ragtag command had finally arrived in Kiev a little after 0420 in the morning, exhausted and beaten up. The Russians had only tried to attack them once by air. A group of Su-27s had swooped in and taken out several of his tanks and Stryker vehicles. He also lost two of his Avenger air-defense vehicles, but not before they shot down two Su-27s. He felt lucky the Russian armored forces didn’t press home the attack. If he were the Russian commander in charge, he certainly would have, but he was glad they gave him a bit of a reprieve.

Once they entered the outskirts of the city, the first thing LTC Munch ordered the units to do was to find out where the other NATO forces were. He wanted to know if his forces were needed elsewhere before they could get settled in and finally get some rest.

When they entered Boryspil, Munch saw the devastation of the international airport and the NATO side of the airport. He also observed that a German armored brigade was well-entrenched and ready to meet the Russians when they showed up; fortunately, the German unit was fresh, having just arrived the previous evening. He also saw the remnants of the American units, mostly the 82^nd Airborne’s 2^nd Brigade Combat Team, which had arrived the day before hostilities started. The 173^rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team, was still held up at the Pryluky Airbase.

As they passed through the German/American positions, LTC Munch ran into a US Brigadier General, Matt Fenzol, the Deputy Commander of the 82^nd Airborne. “I want to commend you on your gallant effort in stopping the Russians the day before. I want your soldiers to take up a position in the forested area around Prolisky, and get some rest as soon as possible… that’s an order. I will be holding a leadership meeting at 1300 hours, so I want you and your officers to be present, but not before you get at least four hours of sleep. I must insist that you all get some sleep… otherwise you all will be useless.”

LTC Munch didn’t fight General Fenzol at all. Most of his ragtag group had been awake and in combat for nearly 48 hours. He needed them rested and ready to meet the Russian force that would probably hit their positions sometime this evening.

Sergeant Childers made sure the rest of second platoon had their vehicle camouflage netting up and their vehicles hidden from any potential air attacks. Once that was done and the bulk of his troops were getting some much-needed rest, he found a quiet spot where he could also get a few hours of shuteye. He crawled underneath the LATV he had been sitting in for most of the evening and morning, and quickly fell asleep.

Several hours later, he was jolted awake by the violent shaking of the earth by a bomb that went off nearby. As his senses came back to him, he heard the unmistakable sound of an explosion and someone yelling that they were under an air attack. Luke grabbed his rifle off the ground next to him, searched for one of the hastily-dug slit trenches that the engineers had dug a few hours ago, and swiftly dove in. As he laid there in anticipation, he could hear multiple jets overhead, several heavy caliber machine guns firing away, and the unmistakable sound of more bombs falling towards them.

Boom, boom, crump! Bang! Flame, dirt and shrapnel were flying in all directions, cutting off radio antennas on the vehicles, ripping flesh from bone, and damaging everything in the camp. The attack did not last long, but it accomplished its goal of damaging the American positions and killing more soldiers.

Once the explosions ended, Childers got out of the trench. A couple of his soldiers were pointing upward, and he followed their line-of-sight to see a Russian pilot slowly drifting to the ground on a parachute. Apparently, his plane had been shot down during the attack. As he drifted into the woods, several of the soldiers in his platoon ran after him.

“Come on Sergeant Childers, we need to capture him!” shouted one of the soldiers as he took off running towards the woods.

Luke knew he better go with these young soldiers and supervise the capture of this Russian aviator before his soldiers beat him to death. As he ran after them, he came to the clearing. Sure enough, he saw four of his soldiers kicking and stomping on the Russian pilot as he tried to curl up in a ball to protect himself. “Enough!” he yelled. “All you, back off right now before I write you up and strip you of your rank!” SFC Childers yelled as he pulled one of the soldiers back and threw another one to the ground.

One of his soldiers yelled back at him, “He just attacked us! Why are you protecting him Luke?”

Now Luke was truly incensed; his vision turned red as his blood boiled over. He signaled for the Russian pilot to stay on the ground for a second while the other soldiers around him looked like they wanted to go right back to beating him. “First off, don’t ever address me by my first name! It’s either Sergeant or Sergeant First Class! Do you understand?!” yelled Luke at the young man, in an effort to snap his brain back into being a soldier and not some vengeance-driven animal.

The soldier lowered his head, realizing he had screwed up. “Yes Sergeant. I’m sorry. I do not know what came over me,” he said.

“I know you all are angry. I understand and respect that — but we are American soldiers. As such, you will not beat a prisoner. This pilot—” he said, pointing down at the Russian, “is just doing his job, just like you and me. He’s not some raghead terrorist. He’s a professional soldier like the rest of us, and you will afford him the same courtesies you would hope to receive as a prisoner. Do you all understand?” SFC Childers lectured, making a point of drilling this fact into their heads.

“This is not how American soldiers should act,” he thought. “I certainly won’t let it happen under my watch.”

“Now, let’s get this guy back to the Tactical Operations Center and let the intelligence guys see what they can get from him,” he said, extending his hand to the Russian pilot to lift him to his feet. The soldiers nodded in agreement, grabbed their weapons and escorted the pilot back to their area with Sergeant Childers in the lead.

Brigadier General (BG) Matt Fenzol was furious. His soldiers had been getting attacked by Russian aircraft for the better part of thirty-six hours. The last three hours saw a dramatic increase in air attacks, and he had little in the way of air defense capabilities to stop them. One of the captains in his operations center told him that one of the Avenger vehicles had just shot down a Su-25 ground attack aircraft a few minutes ago.

The Su-25 Frogfoot was designed to provide close air support, similar to the American A-10 Warthog. These planes carried a number of anti-personnel rocket pods, anti-tank missiles, and 500 lbs. bombs. It was also an armored plane like the A-10, so it could take a lot of damage without being shot down. With near air supremacy, the Russians began using a lot more Su-25 and Su-24 ground attack aircraft against the German and American positions. They had greater quantities of these aircraft, and if they lost a few, it wouldn’t hurt them nearly as bad as tier-one aircraft losses would. Those were being saved for the more dangerous missions and dog fighting against the growing presence of NATO fighters.

As BG Fenzol looked around his temporary command center, he was outraged. He had been promised greater air support several hours ago by those bureaucrats back at EUCOM, and here he was, still getting attacked. “Where the hell is my air cover?!” he yelled at one of his operations officers.

The Major who was running the operations group spoke up. “I just got off the horn with one of the air battle managers in the E-3s. He told me that they have a flight of F-22s that is just now coming on station near Kiev. They should be in orbit now for the next several hours, or until their ordnance is expended.” As he answered, Major Woods couldn’t hide his own disgust that they were not on station an hour ago like they said they would be.

Major Tyrone Woods hated working for General Fenzol. Being a Mormon, he disliked working for a commander who often used curse words and belittled those around him. Everyone in the operations group was doing their best. Three days ago, when they first arrived in Kiev, Colonel Jelanski had been the S3, but he had been killed during one of the many Russian air attacks, along with his deputy and the next person below him — that left Major Woods as the only senior officer left from the S3 office, forcing him to be General Fenzol’s S3 until a higher-ranked guy showed up.

Fenzol didn’t particularly care for his new S3 either, but they had to work together, at least for a while. “I’m not sure our joint US/German command will stand up to the Russian divisions that are amassing less than twenty miles away,” he worried. “The Russians have been hitting us hard with airpower all night and into the morning. It is only a matter of time until they launch their main attack.”

“Major Woods, what’s the status on 2^nd and 3^rd Brigade Combat Teams from the 1^st Armored Division? Are they in Kiev yet?”

“Yes, Sir. We made contact with the 3^rd BCT’s S3. They just finished off-loading their tanks on the west side of the city. Lieutenant Colonel Wightman said they were going to get underway and head for our position within the hour. He gave us an ETA of 1300 hours,” Woods said, hoping this might appease his hot-headed commander.

BG Fenzol nodded in approval. “Good job, Major Woods. Stay in contact with them and also see what the ETA of the 2^nd BCT is as well. Let them know that the Russians are most likely going to launch their attack shortly. We desperately need their tanks if we are going to hold this position,” he explained.

Brigadier General Matt Fenzol knew he had a reputation as a tough nut, but this was the 82^nd Airborne. They were Paratroopers. If people got their feelings hurt or bent out of shape by his hard-charging attitude, then they just weren’t cut out for the Airborne. He turned to his Command Sergeant Major and asked, “What’s the status on the ammunition front?”

In the Army, the three major functions a First Sergeant and Sergeant Major were responsible for were “beans, bullets, and soldiers.” At that exact moment, ammunition was a bigger concern than food. They had been expending a lot of it lately, and the NATO supply lines hadn’t exactly been established yet.

“We are OK for the moment General, but we will need a resupply if the enemy does launch any sort of major attack. We blew through a lot of Stinger and heavy weapons’ ammo trying to shoot down these Russian helicopters and attack planes,” the Command Sergeant Major explained as he spat out a stream of tobacco juice on the dirt floor of their command center.

“Stay on it Sergeant Major. Make sure Supply is getting us what we need,” the general responded, knowing that if anyone could make things happen, it was his sergeant major.

It was time for his officer’s call. He could hear the officers talking and gathering outside the command tent. He needed to get out there and get these guys their orders and make sure everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing before the Russians launched their attack. It was going to be another long, and rough day.

He lifted the flap to the command tent and walked out to a small gaggle of probably 40 officers. These were the troop and company commanders of the various infantry, armor and scout units that made up his temporary ragtag force of roughly 11,000 US and German Soldiers. When the officers returned to their units, they would disseminate the information down to the officers and NCOs who were not able to attend. Someone had to man the shop and keep the soldiers in line.

“Listen up. I know everyone is starved for news of what is going on in the world and with the war in general. I don’t have a lot of news, but I’ll pass on what I do have after we go over today’s plans. The S2 says there are roughly three Russian divisions less than twenty miles from our position, and we anticipate them launching their attack anytime. I want your men to be ready for it. We have also received word, thanks to Major Woods, that 1^st Armor’s 3^rd BCT should arrive in our lines within the next hour.”

The officers were all smiles at this news. A couple even clapped jokingly. “Calm down guys,” barked the general. “We have more information to push out. Listen, we have been ordered to hold our position while the rest of our NATO allies continue to rush more troops to Kiev. 1^st Armor’s 2^nd BCT should arrive in our lines by the end of the evening, along with the British 12^th Armored Infantry Brigade. That will bring our manpower up to roughly 23,300 soldiers. However, things are going to get rough and nasty before they will get better.”

One of the captains raised his hand, signaling that he had a question to ask.

“Go ahead Captain,” said the general.

One of the captains from the 2^nd Cavalry Troop that had folded into this ragtag command was the one to speak. “Sir, my unit has been slugging it out with the Russians since they crossed the demarcation line. I’ve lost nearly half of my soldiers, vehicles, and equipment and we have absolutely no idea what in the world is going on, other than a crap ton of Russians are trying to kill us. Can you give us any insight I can pass along to my soldiers? My guys have tried using their smartphones to get information from the mainstream media, Twitter, and Facebook but as you know, the cell towers have been taken offline since the start of hostilities,” he said, dejected, exhausted, and frustrated.

The general hung his head down for a second collecting his own thoughts. “We were passed along an Intelligence Summary from EUCOM a couple of hours ago. I will go ahead and read off some of it for you guys. Some of this is still highly classified, so no one write anything down. Just pass things on verbally.” He then opened his notepad and brought out the summary he had mentioned. He began to read aloud to them.

“Classified SECRET: Carrier George H.W. Bush sunk by Russian submarines at the entrance to the Black Sea. US Carrier Strike Group sunk eleven Russian submarines and nine Russian surface warfare ships. Navy casualties are listed as high.”

Audible gasps and swearing could be heard by most of the soldiers and officers present. It took a minute for things to quiet down before BG Fenzol continued.

“Classified TOP SECRET/SCI: Russian saboteurs temporarily disabled Europe THAAD missile systems during opening hours of conflict.

Classified SECRET: US Air Force Base Ramstein hit by Russian cruise missile attack. One hundred and forty US aircraft destroyed on the ground.

Classified SECRET: US Air Force Base Spangdahlem hit by Russian cruise missile attack. Ninety US aircraft destroyed on the ground.

Classified CONFIDENTIAL: US Air Force Stealth Bombers bombed Russian National Defense Control Center in Moscow.

Classified CONFIDENTIAL: US Air Force bombs numerous Russia airbases across Western Russia.

Classified CONFIDENTIAL: US Navy destroys Russian Black Sea Fleet base and headquarters.

Classified SECRET: US Navy sinks thirteen Russian submarines in the North Sea

Classified SECRET: Russian submarines sink five US Navy transports in the Atlantic, ferrying equipment from the US to NATO bases in Europe.

Unclassified: US Media reports US Government caught completely by surprise from Russian sneak attack.”

More gasps, cursing and grumbling could be heard from the NCOs and officers as he read off the information. It was a bit of a shock to hear how bad the war was starting out. Most of the men and women present had spent their entire careers fighting Islamic extremists, terrorists, and the Taliban. The Department of Defense had not done a very good job of keeping the force ready and trained to fight a conventional war against a regular well-equipped and determined army. They were paying the price for it now.

“OK, that’s roughly the gist of the report and what’s important. I know it’s not a lot to go on, but it’s the best I can give you guys for the time being. I know it doesn’t sound good, but remember, we are in the first three days of this war. America is just getting started, and we are going to kick the crap out of these Russian bastards. Now, get back to your units and give ‘em hell,” he said as he dismissed his officers. He could see from the looks on their faces, that the news had shaken some of them. It was a lot to take in. He understood; he still couldn’t believe the Navy had lost a supercarrier.